


Argos

by Akisame8



Series: Horizons [15]
Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 18:40:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15612510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akisame8/pseuds/Akisame8
Summary: A lonely boy builds himself a friend which attracts the attention of the Federation.





	Argos

**Author's Note:**

> This was based on Purplecleric's [prompt](http://www.blakes7online.com/forum/viewthread.php?thread_id=2603&pid=131094#post_131094) on Horizon: "Describe an event that may have happened in a character’s childhood that contributed to why they became the person we love (or hate)."

     He was a sullen and serious boy. Friends were not necessary, not even imaginary ones. He could occupy his own time quite well. Fanciful play was foolish and unproductive, yet he still found himself lonely—and this puzzled him. Was it because humans as a species were social creatures? Was this then genetically programmed into his nature? Other children had friends to help with this irritating human trait—but he found other children annoying.     

     So he decided to build himself his own version of a Friend.       
  
     The children of wealthier families were permitted real dogs; however, his own family did not have the privilege and credentials to apply for such luxuries. From a distance, he admired the canines’ loyalty to their human caretakers, but mostly for their lack of human speech. He decided he would construct his own devoted four-legged companion.       
  
      The resulting machine was crudely dog-shaped. Its own four legs propelled it jerkily with an endearing saunter as it followed him everywhere, drawing the attention of other children and adults alike. He called him Argos, after a dog in an Old Calendar myth his uncle had once told him. He even allowed his machine to have an honorary pronoun since he was now his Friend.

     Argos was not a sophisticated robot, but for having been put together from metal and plastic scrap by a seven-year-old, he was an astounding construct. The boy had even programmed the small computer that was Argos’ “brain.”

     Argos did not act out of devotion like a real dog; he only did what he had been programmed to do, but it was enough. Argos was his constant companion, always there at his once solitary side.

     Before he was taken away, that was.

     One day, he and his creation were whisked away from his dull family and school into a Federation-sponsored academy for advanced students where he was the youngest in his class. The instructors were fascinated by Argos and wanted him dismantled to see how the brilliant child had achieved this feat using only rudimentary components. For the first time in his life, the child wailed and sobbed and fought to keep them from taking away his Friend.

     “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just a machine.”

     He heard this declaration over and over until he finally came to believe it. He eventually accepted that Argos had been merely a tool to assuage his need for society, a useful construction to which he had foolishly attributed personality, even loyalty. Perhaps humans themselves were not so different from automatons, organic machines programmed by their civilization and government.

     He—however—would not allow himself to be programmed like a machine.

     He only saw Argos once more.

***       
      
     As a sullen, cold and silently seething adolescent, he saw a group of Alpha children playing with a toy on the street. He watched out of boredom for a few minutes, trying to identify the nature of their plaything. The “toy” was four-legged, rusty and not functioning well—and yet, it seemed to become alerted to his nearby presence. It stopped and separated itself from the children and struggled on teetering limbs to approach him.

      It seemed suddenly familiar.

     “Argos?” he whispered.

     Then the machine, having just broken from years of restrictive programming, fell over on its side and was still.

     “You broke our dog!” shouted one of the children in anger.

      “I’m telling Mother!”

      But one of the little girls said wonderingly, “She knew you. She was trying to go to you.”        
  
     “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Kerr Avon. “It's just a machine.” 

**Author's Note:**

> With obvious references to The Odyssey and the sad tale of loyal Argos.


End file.
